


Houston, We Have So Many Problems

by SallyExactly



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyExactly/pseuds/SallyExactly
Summary: The Time Team deals with unexpected consequences of gallivanting through the centuries.





	Houston, We Have So Many Problems

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an experimental twitter fic, some time ago, hence the style and the fact that it completely disregards the two new episodes (which I haven't seen yet, so please no spoilers in the comments) in favor of a vague series of adventures.

Lucy felt the old sinking panic, so thankfully rare since the war’s end. It had been a routine committee meeting, crammed in before the end-of-semester deadline, until Ysabel had explained her “novel” line of research.

This was bad. This was really bad.

She opened their group chat.

To: The TT

From: LP

Wyatt, Flynn... hypothetically what if I maybe needed you to kidnap someone for me?

She waited until her phone chirped.

WL: um what??

GF: Who?

LP: A student.

RC: And again with the um what.

LP: Look, she knows all about Rufus!!!

RC: AND AGAIN WITH THE UM WHAT.

LP: Throughout history! Wesley Snipes! She tracked down all the times you used that name!

RC: Tell me there are no pictures.

LP: <image attached>

RC: I hate everything.

JM: we gotta talk about this. taco tuesday. our place. 1 hr. don’t be late.

WL: it’s thursday.

JM: DON’T BE LATE.

GF: Am I bringing the kidnappee, or do you want plausible deniability?

JM: jesus h, flynn. what exactly do you think ‘talk’ means?

#

Lucy ticked points off on her fingers. “Your booking photo and ID from the Hindenburg. Hamer’s notes from the Bonnie and Clyde case. A memoir by one the kids we got out of the Alamo.” She spooned guac onto a chip, and promptly dropped it in her lap.

Wyatt handed her napkins without looking as Lucy continued. “An oral history from one of the soldiers in the Pennsylvania Orb Incident. An interview with Katherine Johnson. A story from Richard Hart’s daughter. A soldier from the Battle of St. Mihiel.”

“An interview with the waitress from Pearl Harbor. The police report from Stonewall. And that autograph you gave Annie Kopchovsky.”

Flynn cracked open a beer and offered it to her. “What’d the committee say?”

“Uh, I think her adviser was mortified. Someone else said not to waste our time with crackpot conspiracy theories.” She took a long, much-needed drink of beer.

“So what’s the problem?” Wyatt asked. “They don’t believe her.”

“Are you serious?” Rufus demanded. “She’s stalking me through history!”

“Yeah, but c’mon, she--”

“The problem is I know Ysabel and she won’t give up easily.” At this rate, Lucy was going to need more beer. “Also? She has an interdisciplinary fellowship and she’s collaborating with computer science. She talked about using data mining to find more hits.”

“Still,” Wyatt pressed. “No one’s ever gonna believe her, so what’s the worst-case scenario?”

“Uh, her algorithm _finds Rufus’s picture?_ ” Jiya said.

A short silence, filled with chewing and concern.

“So what’s your plan, Lucy?” Flynn asked. “Kidnap and intimidation?”

“What? No.” She made eye contact. “No,” she repeated firmly.

“I mean, you did bring it up,” Wyatt pointed out, passing her the chips.

“I panicked, okay? You are not kidnapping this student. If we want to keep this quiet, that would be the _opposite_ of helpful.”

“But--”

“Hey,” Rufus said. “I have an idea.”

They listened to Rufus’s plan.

“That could work,” Lucy said with relief. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Flynn asked.

“Then we’ll eat more tacos and think of something else.”

A short pause. They all nodded.

“So,” Jiya said. “Now that that’s hopefully under control, without kidnapping... What else is new?”

“We have to show them the swarm,” Rufus said. “Hang on.”

Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn exchanged looks as he left the room.

Rufus returned with a cluster of drones orbiting his head.

“You know,” Wyatt said, “some people just have... houseplants.”

“Those people are idiots, because this is awesome. They’re semi-autonomous, and I’m teaching them. Watch th-- ohshitDUCK!”

“Nice dent in the wall,” Wyatt said, when Rufus had locked the swarm up again. “Really adds to the look.”

“Shut up.”

Lucy just shook her head, and focused on her tasty, tasty taco.

“How’s the, ah, invited talk coming?” Flynn asked her. “For Fredericksburg, right?”

Jiya looked up from assembling another taco. “I didn’t hear about this.”

“Oh, it’s, uh, a non-profit wants me to talk about identity in political movements at their annual meeting.”

“The Lucy-to-English translation,” Wyatt said, smiling at her a little, “is it’s the Pew Trust, and Dr. Preston, here, is giving the keynote.”

Jiya’s eyebrows rose. Lucy looked down and made self-deprecating noises. “Yeah, it’s, uh... it’s coming along.”

As they left, she cornered Flynn by the door. “We decided against the kidnapping plan,” she reminded him firmly.

“Heard you the first time, Lucy.” He sounded aggrieved as he held her coat out for her.

“Just checking.” She wriggled into the sleeves.

He’d been loyal, tireless, and absolutely crucial in beating Rittenhouse.

But.

Sometimes he also reminded her of a six and a half foot cat that delighted in bringing its people dead birds, believing they lacked the lethality to feed themselves.

#

Even if he didn’t have a job that let him find pretty much anyone on the Internet, he would’ve known Ysabel by the widening of her eyes when she saw him.

“You’re...” Her mouth pursed into a ‘W.’

“Rufus Carlin,” he said, before she could say it. “Hi.”

“I’m friends with Lucy,” he added, sitting across from her. “She said we needed to talk.”

Her eyes were still the diameter of the Death Star. “You are _all over_ history.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew this would catch up with me eventually.”

She stared. “What do you mean? How-- how old are you? Where have you been?” She leaned in with an unnervingly Lucy-like intensity. “I want to know _everything_.”

“Look,” he said. “I just wanted to know if I could hack history.”

“Wh--”

“It was a bet. It’s not real. I’m sorry.”

“... I don’t understand.”

“Look, most of the results are from digital archives, right? I... I planted them. I never thought anyone would find them or take it seriously.”

“... no, I’ve SEEN paper copies,” she said fiercely.

“I know. A few are real, it’s how the whole thing got started. Lucy was telling us one day about finding Wesley Snipes in two different archives, and we thought, what are the odds?”

“So my girlfriend and I bet on whether I could plant Wesley Snipes all through American history, like... like Where’s Waldo or Kilroy.”

Oh God. She was staring at him like he’d kicked a puppy. This was awful. But it was better than her knowing the truth.

“It’s not real,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up your research.”

She swallowed. “I should’ve known it was too good to be true.”

Oh God. Like he’d kicked a hundred puppies. “Here.” He reached into his pocket.

“I can’t help with your research, but... look me up when you’ve defended, okay?”

Someone who had the drive to hunt Wesley Snipes across history, and the talent to do it in two different fields... he and Connor could use someone like that. Someone who thought outside the box, who knew how to code and knew what was _useful_ to code. There were enough script kiddies optimizing analytics already.

“If you, you know, could maybe use a job.” He knew what the job market for history PhDs was like.

Ysabel stared at him. “... okay?” Pause. “I actually, um, I have to go teach now, so... it was nice to meet you?”

Her eyes were turning red with the tears of a thousand kicked puppies. Odds were good “teaching” meant “crying in the bathroom.” Shit.

At least it was done. His bad deed for the... year. And he’d survived messing with a grad student’s research, which was about as safe as wrestling a crocodile.

Then his brain caught up with him about what he’d seen sticking out of the top of her folder.

A photo of Jesse James.

And Lucy.

He opened the group chat.

To: The TT

From: RC

Uh, guys, we have a situation...


End file.
